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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26259451">An Eye For An Eye</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sand_Cursive/pseuds/DefenstrationProtestation'>DefenstrationProtestation (Sand_Cursive)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shall We Date?: Obey Me!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Comfort, Default name MC, Soft Mammon, Yuki the name is Yuki</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:07:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,881</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26259451</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sand_Cursive/pseuds/DefenstrationProtestation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Yuki has had enough of this! And is more than happy to annoy/harass/irritate the rest of the brothers into falling in line.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>150</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>An Eye For An Eye</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Dumb kids sharing one braincell. Sorry, I wrote this in two hours. I'll do better later.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You are so, incredibly, <em>pissed</em>. </p><p>They aren't talking to you. They aren't talking about you, they aren't even <em>looking</em> at you. Technically, (if you want to get into semantics), this has nothing to do with you. But.</p><p><em>Fuck.</em> You flex your fingers, trying unsuccessfully to stop yourself from curling them into fists. </p><p>"MAMMON." Your voice cuts through the chatter, pact-strong and <em>furious</em>. The demon in question jumps, spinning like a spooked rabbit. "Hey! I didn't do nothin’—" </p><p>"SIT."</p><p>He drops immediately into the seat behind him. Visibly wilts as the attention centres on him, face turned away from four pairs of narrowed eyes. You can see the tremble in his legs — he'd fidget if he was able.</p><p>"Oh thank you darling!" Asmo trills, advancing on the seated demon with a menacing air. "<em>Now</em>—"</p><p>But you stalk past him, arms and legs rigid. Ignore their looks of eager anticipation (they <em>enjoy</em> this, the <em>dicks</em>) and settle yourself directly in Mammon's lap.</p><p>The entire room goes instantly silent.</p><p>"U-u-uhm," Mammon starts, stuttering into the silence. You shift in his lap and feel him jump, so violent and immediate that if his ass wasn't magically welded to the chair you would have been toppled right off. As it is everything displaces at least half a metre and you yelp, throwing your arms around him and holding tight. The flush that was crawling across his face spreads, fast and dangerous as oil. Red seeping under the line of his jaw, spreading towards his neck, extending below the collar of his shirt. You have a sudden urge to <em>follow</em> it, but.</p><p>Now isn't the time.</p><p>He sputters around you, not quite meeting your affectionate gaze. “H-h-hey! Don’t go thinkin’ ya can use the Great Mammon!” But he doesn’t shove you off.</p><p>Frankly, you aren’t sure what the issue even <em>is</em>. They’re all mad about <em>something</em>, or frustrated, but as far as you can tell Mammon was telling the <em>truth</em>. He actually <em>hasn’t</em> done anything. (Maybe made a few <em>less-than-helpful</em> suggestions, but that’s hardly a <em>crime</em>.)</p><p>You turn your head. And <em>glare</em> out at his assembled brothers.</p><p>"W-w-what..." Levi tries, nearly <em>glowing</em> with embarrassment. (Or maybe envy? Irritation)?</p><p>Asmodeus pouts, pretty. "What are you doing? If you wanted someone to cuddle with" (and at <em>that</em> word you feel the demon beneath you fastening one nervous hand around your waist with a "Hey! Of course they want the Great Mammon!" that's easily dismissed) "<em>I'm</em> right here! All you had to do was <em>ask</em>."</p><p>"You guys are being way too mean to Mammon," you say instead, ignoring the silent glare that Belphie is leveling at his brother.</p><p>"That's because he's a scummy—"</p><p>"Idiot, dumbass—”</p><p>"This <em>asshole</em>, moron—"</p><p>There's a mess of overlapping protestation (save for Beel, the absolute <em>sweetheart</em>, who frowns and offers a genuine 'Sorry' despite not having actually taken part. Although quiet inaction does imply approval on some scale. Well, he's learning), that makes you grate your teeth. You weren't inviting them to <em>continue</em>.</p><p>You turn your back on all of them and nestle into Mammon's neck. It's warm — almost hot enough to be uncomfortable — and you resist the urge to kiss that jumping pulse with valiant self-control. He squeaks, fingers digging in just shy of sharp above your hips. "W-w-what are ya doin'?"</p><p>You're too close to help it, your response breathed direct across his skin. "I'm ignoring them until they stop."</p><p>"Hey, hey hey!" He protests, as they all <em>finally</em> shut up. "I don't need no human to protect me! I'm the Great Mammon, after all!" His face is changing shades; some impressive magic. So red you could match the colour against Lucifer’s favourite tie.</p><p>"I <em>know</em> that," you say, like it should be obvious. "But they're making <em>me</em> sad. I was hoping you could make me feel better."</p><p>You can already hear the sharp, affronted gasp of Asmodeus behind you, <em>insulted</em> to be passed over for this duty. "I could make you feel <em>much better!</em>" He tries. His statement is summarily ignored.</p><p>"Why would <em>you</em> be sad?" Mammon mutters. But he's already stroking along your back with one hand. "Doesn't make any sense."</p><p>If you were capable of it you'd be purring under his touch. “I guess it’s just a dumb human thing. Don’t worry about it."</p><p>There's a loud, <em>annoyed</em> huff, and then the clicking of the door. At least one of them is leaving, although you don't look up to see who.</p><p>Mammon clears his throat. "So, uh. How long do we gotta stay like this, for?"</p><p>"Oh, if it's uncomfortable you can get up." You can feel it, the magic uncoiling from beneath you, the pact's hold dissipating. The tensing of his thighs before they relax, the shifting of his legs as he adjusts to be more comfortable.</p><p>"Pft, it's fine! I'm the Great Mammon, after all. This is nothin'."</p><p>You wiggle further into his embrace. "Then can we stay like this a little longer?"</p><p>"Sure. No problem!" </p><p>"Yay!" You turn just slightly. The room's cleared. "You can wake me up in two hours."</p><p>"Yeah, yeah, whatever ya need." He's blustering, but the hand on your back is still gentle. You settle against his shoulder, tuck your head below his chin. The soothing motions really are helping slip you into sleep.</p><p>Until he jolts upwards, knocking the bone hard against your cheek.</p><p>"Two <em>hours</em><em>?!?!"</em></p><hr/><p>"It's not my fault you're too stupid to understand."</p><p>"Oh, I understand jus' fine!"</p><p>Well, the peace lasted frankly longer than you expected. You close your book, marking your place with one finger, and look up at the assembly of them. Satan and Belphie on one side, Mammon on the other. Another meeting of the 'Fuck-with-Lucifer' club that you hadn't really been paying attention to.</p><p>You tune back in, trying to make sense of the argument. (A difficult endeavour when the all the yelling is dissolving mostly into insults).</p><p><em>Ah</em>. So they wanted to destroy Lucifer's favourite record. That's surprisingly vindictive of them, especially lately. Has Lucifer <em>done</em> something recently . . . ?</p><p>"Ya can't! He'll kill ya, and then he'll kill <em>me!</em> Do you even remember where he got that record?"</p><p>Mammon has been trying for the past five minutes to (unsuccessful) dissuade them from their frankly self-destructive crusade. He's getting worked up on their behalf and Lucifer's both. Warmth melts through you, dripping and goopy and embarrassing, spreading through your chest and all the way to your extremities. He really is such a sweet brother.</p><p>"Do <em>you</em> have any idea how funny it would be?"</p><p>Satan's smile is a little too sharp to fall under the regular umbrella of his 'polite'. "If humour is the fruit of wisdom I think it's fair to say he wouldn't get the joke."</p><p>So. They've hit this point in one of their brotherly arguments. You finger the edge of the page in your hand. It doesn't sound too bad <em>yet</em>. But. You're starting to think maybe you should break them of the habit.</p><p>"I'll give you fifty grimm to back off."</p><p>"You're pricing his integrity too high." Satan is frowning, his annoyance shifting. It's already starting to sound like they're moved on from the topic of their original plan. (Mammon makes for a great distraction, even if you can't quite agree with the cost). "He probably would have done it for five."</p><p>"Hey!" Mammon is trying to yell back, but he's clearly having a little difficulty coming up with a convincing argument. You sigh, pressing to your feet. </p><p>You don't have to yell, anymore.</p><p> </p><p>"M̱̪͒̎a̰͗̋ͬm̻͓͚̘̈̀̏̒m̙̳̤̮̫͖͍̄̓o̲͑̍̒ͭ͂ͪͤn͍̰̖͇.S̗̖͈̹ͭ̆͒̅ͩ̈͌iṭ̠̣̤̭̟̹̓̉́̃͌ͮ̐."</p><p> </p><p>He drops immediately. Right on the floor. Oops. Well, that's fine too.</p><p>You stand, walking over, and Belphie rolls his eyes and turns away, already conceding.</p><p>"Belphie . . .?"</p><p>"I'm not dealing with this." Belphie waves a lazy hand, halfway to the door. "They don't mind if we watch."</p><p>"Wha-"</p><p>"I mean, I guess Mammon minds a little. But in that gross way, where he gets embarrassed <em>and</em> smug."</p><p>"What are you talking about?"</p><p>But it becomes incredibly obvious when you drop right between Mammon's legs, leaning back against his chest. And open your book, ignoring them all. You just hit the climax. You'd prefer not to be interrupted again. </p><p>"Huh." Satan tilts his head at you; you can sort of follow the motion in your periphery. The door of the library has already closed behind the youngest brother. (It should be fine. Belphie seldom has the motivation to follow through without Satan goading him into action). "Interesting."</p><p>"Thank you," you mutter, while Mammon blurts out an, "Oi! What're you smirking at!" One of his arms is already winding its way around your waist. You can feel the sharp line of his chin settling against your collarbone.</p><p>He spends less time being flustered, now. You played this hand at least twice before he started getting used to it. Even still it takes him a moment to hold you, to settle into a comfortable position within the bounds of his pact. </p><p>"Oh, you can move if you want, Mammon. I don't want you to get stiff or anything."</p><p>"M'fine," he mumbles. He's shifting beneath you, though, one leg jiggling. You reach down with one hand and land it firmly on his thigh. It's a lovely reminder that Mammon isn't scrawny by any means; the muscle tensing under your palm. You can't help yourself. You squeeze.</p><p>The high pitched noise that squeaks out of him would be cute, if it weren't so close by your ear. </p><p>"Using our human as a shield is a dirty trick," Satan says, conversationally. </p><p>"I ain't doing anything like that!" Mammon shouts. Again, too loud. "And—"</p><p>Your fingers curl, <em>gripping</em>, pressing into the flesh of his leg. He makes a choked little sound and quiets immediately,</p><p>"If you want to carry a conversation, sit down. I'm not going to hurt my neck craning to look up at you," you say, trying to flip to the next page with just your thumb. It's taking an embarrassing amount of concentration.</p><p>The fourth brother acquiesces easily, dropping to a crouch. "Absolutely pathetic. I can't believe you're my older brother."</p><p>"Hey! How 'bout a little respect—" his words stutter. You've twisted your free arm up to curl around his head, run soothing lines against his scalp. You can feel the shudder, imagine the way his eyes are already fluttering closed.</p><p>"You two look well-occupied," Satan tries again, changing tact. He's poking, prodding. Trying to discover your game. </p><p>"We're very busy," you agree. Your hands are still in his brother's hair. </p><p>The blond considers you quietly. "So it looks like there's no one to stop us from playing our prank, then."</p><p>That finally prompts you to look up. Meeting his gaze, the intelligent flash of those blue-green eyes. The book is tragically abandoned on your lap. "Please don't." </p><p>You lean forwards, just a little, reaching out to take his hand. Mammon's grip on you grows tighter before it loosens entirely. He won't stop you if you want to leave. "It'll only hurt him, and <em>not</em> in the fun way." Your thumb rubs over the his skin. Soft, a little dry. You don't get up.</p><p>"I don't hear any alternatives," he says, although he seems a little pleased to be focus of your touch. Even (or perhaps especially) since you're giving him your attention while his brother is still wrapped around you.</p><p>You pause, turning the thought over in your mind. 'Do nothing' clearly isn't an option that's going to carry much weight. "Didn't he get some new leather shoes last week? He seemed particularly pleased with them." </p><p>Satan hums noncommittally, but you can tell he's intrigued. </p><p>You release him, tug each of his fingers carefully until they <em>pop</em>. He lets out a satisfied little sigh. </p><p>"Just fill his new shoes with invisible pudding. Imagine the look on his face when he steps into them. Feels it squishing through his socks."</p><p>The smile he gifts you is too beautiful for the images that must come to mind.</p><hr/><p> </p><p>"Mammon. S̙̻͖̬̤̱̬͊Ï̳̘̖͎̳̊͐̓̐T͚̜̝̞͕͚̍ͧͭͫ̍̅."</p><p> </p><p>It's the first time you've done it in front of Lucifer, but maybe the third or fourth time it's happened altogether. Mammon's legs are already spread, arms open. Like he's waiting. Beel tries to catch your eye over Lucifer's shoulder, urgently shaking his head, but you're too focused on the expectant expression on the Greed demon's face.</p><p>You drop lightly into his lap and he immediately drags you close. Your fingers go to the hairs at his nape, carding gently.</p><p>The air in the room has dropped ten degrees.</p><p>"What is this?"</p><p>"You're being unreasonable," you say, turning to face the oldest brother. Mammon tightens his hold on you at Lucifer's glare. "He didn't do it. We were in my room all of yesterday."</p><p>"You simply could have said that instead of beginning this . . .<em>display</em>."</p><p>"Sorry," you say, not sorry at all. (Like he even would have <em>listened</em> to you). "It's become something of a habit."</p><p>Lucifer makes <em>that</em> sound. The one that means you're wearing his patience beyond thin. "Fine. I will let it go. <em>This time</em>."</p><p>"He didn't do it!" You say, indignant.</p><p>"I'm sure he's not wholly innocent. This is <em>exactly</em> the sort of stunt he's pulled on more than one occasion, whether you've witnessed them or not." He narrows his eyes. "In any case, I was talking to <em>you</em>."</p><p>"That's bullshit. He couldn't have done it. Besides, he's a terrible artist, you know that," you reason, breezing past that tacked-on warning.</p><p>His eyes are slits. "He could have had someone else do it."</p><p>"Then prove it!" You spin in place, still secure within the circle of your greed demon's arms. You can feel the anxious vibration in his legs as you weather the full force of Lucifer's direct attention. "You can't just blame everything bad that happens on him! That's absurd and so unfair I'm going to scream."</p><p>"Do Not," he starts, voice low. "Scream."</p><p>Lucifer is leaning into your space now, bending at the waist to meet you. If his horns were out they would be a very sharp threat. You've made yourself his focus.</p><p>Mammon tries to shift, create some space between you and his brother, but the hard back of the chair is impeding his movement. There's a slight twitch. A jump, and then a long, <em>agonizing</em> screech as he scoots backwards.</p><p>You wince, your glaring contest forgotten. "Mammon, we are <em>not</em> running away."</p><p>"Well I ain't running, because in case ya hadn't noticed, my ass is glued to this chair!"</p><p>Lucifer's frown deepens.</p><p>"Oh, sorry, You can get up, if you want to."</p><p>The eldest huffs, once. "Fine then. There's an easy solution here." His words are remarkably more measured.</p><p>"Innocent until proven guilty?" you try, without much hope.</p><p>"Force him to tell me the truth."</p><p>You don't even think about it. "No."</p><p>"Excuse me?" Ah, there it is. That soft, slow whisper that makes you think <em>danger</em>.</p><p>Too bad so long down here has made you nearly immune to the suggestion of it.</p><p>"I'm sorry, was I mumbling? Asmo keeps telling me to work on my enunciation. I said NO."</p><p>His voice is stronger now, growing in volume. "Just who do you think you are—"</p><p>"Lucifer." You thread just the suggestion of pact magic into your voice and he freezes, incensed. Mammon makes a panicked, whimpering sound. You're <em>threatening</em> him. <em>Lucifer</em>. Small mercies: at least he's wary enough to be rational. His demon form is still soundly tucked away. </p><p>"Hey, hey, hey. Let's not be hasty here—"</p><p>"And why. Not?"</p><p>"<em>You're</em> the one who's so convinced he's guilty. You can find the evidence. I'm not going to abuse my pacts for your petty power plays." </p><p>"But you have the audacity to suggest to <em>me</em> that—"</p><p>"And you hated it, didn't you?" You make to stand, and for the very first time Mammon refuses to let you go. Latches, in fact, even tighter, like he can keep you safe if you just stay within his grasp. You hesitate, considering. The sentiment is sweet so you'll allow it, dropping back down, swinging your legs over one of his so you can shift to sit sideways. "You're not my puppets. These pacts are a connection, not a leash."</p><p>"I <em>just</em> saw you make Mammon sit."</p><p>"Well I—"</p><p>"That's different. I would never <em>really </em>take his choice away from him. Not unless it was an emergency." </p><p>Lucifer scoffs. "So what? You'll just wield your power over him in trivial little ways?"</p><p>He doesn't understand what you're doing. Not that this surprises you, exactly. You don't think any of the brothers <em>really</em> know what you're trying to accomplish. It would be <em>nice, </em>certainly, if they could be nicer to their brother. But it actually isn't about them at all. "This might shock you, but you aren't the only demon worthy of some basic respect."</p><p>"Do not <em>assume </em>just because you've been staying with us that you know anything about my family."</p><p>You meet his stare evenly. "Sometimes it helps to have an outside perspective."</p><p>"I don't recall asking for a second opinion." </p><p>"Consider it an unexpected bonus."</p><p>Mammon is nearly vibrating underneath you. You're sure he would be up and running already, you in his arms, if he thought you wouldn't be livid. </p><p>Lucifer takes a deep breath. You can <em>hear</em> it, the way that air turns furious in his throat. He swallows; impressive control. "I think you and I should <em>talk</em>. Come to my study later tonight." </p><p>"Sure." It comes out too blithe.</p><p>Mammon is making a series of noises that sound mostly alarmed. "Ah hahah, okay! Everything's settled then, right? No need to stick around."</p><p>Lucifer glowers at him. Suddenly reminded of his presence it looks like he has more to say. </p><p>"I'll see you tonight, Lucifer."</p><p>When he finally sweeps out of the room, his coat flapping grandly behind him, you roll your eyes. Mammon doesn't relax his grip even when his footsteps have faded down the hall.</p><p>"Ya can't talk to Lucifer like that! You're human, remember? Have a little self-preservation!" The words are a weird whisper shout. He's spitting against your ear, so wound up you can feel him struggling to catch his breath. You drape an arm over his shoulder, knock your forehead against his cheek. He sputters. "I'm serious!"</p><p>You hum. Make an effort to distract him, attempting to twirl short strands between your fingers. It doesn't quite work with his shaggy length. </p><p>"Hey," you say conversationally, resting your head against your demon's shoulder. You can still feel the frantic beating of his heart. "<em>Were </em>you the one that had that photo stand mural of Dia and Lucifer painted outside RAD?"</p><p>His laughter is a bark, something sudden and shocked as one of his hands skim your sides. Almost checking, despite the fact that both of you know nothing's actually happened. "You ain't gonna tell, right?"</p><p>You grin, burying your face in his neck. Drag him close and blow a raspberry there, right where he's most ticklish.</p><p>He shrieks and dumps you on the floor.</p><hr/><p>"Shut up! You're lowering the IQ of the entire room."</p><p>At the dinner table. Right in front of your salad!</p><p>Honestly, you can't even enjoy a decent meal anymore. You sigh, <em>loudly</em>, (although it's lost in the flying volleys of insults and outlandish declarations) and pick up your plate. A few unidentifiable legs slide to the side, precariously close to the edge.</p><p>Mammon is already sitting, so at least there's that.</p><p>"Done already?" Asmo asks as you pass by, but you purse your lips and shake your head. He sees the determined set of your brow and gasps.</p><p>"Wait, you can't mean—"</p><p>And then you shove Mammon's plate forcefully to the side.</p><p>"Oi! What's the big idea—"</p><p>You kick his chair out (a little aggressively) and then flop into his lap. Something fried and dangling falls to the floor.</p><p>The room is so silent there might not be any air.</p><p>You've gotten better at shrugging off the weight of their stares. You lean down, spoon something dark orange and mashed into your mouth. And grimace. Oh. You were hoping it was pumpkin, but it tastes . . . meaty.</p><p>"Go back to your seat."</p><p>Of course Lucifer is the one who finds his voice first. He's not quite glowering at you yet, so you lift a napkin and try to discreetly spit into it. It doesn't really work with everyone's eyes on you.</p><p>"I prefer this seat."</p><p>"Fine," he says, clearly unwilling to get into it with you today. "Mammon, switch places."</p><p>"Mmpf." Neither one of you moves.</p><p>"How's Mammon gonna eat?" Beel interjects, a little mangled by all the food in his mouth.</p><p>A fair point. You hadn't been thinking about that, because, actually, it looks like Mammon hasn't been <em>trying</em> to eat anything at all. He's already got one arm locked around your waist, and his face is fully buried in your shoulder. The tips of his ears are red.</p><p>"Oh. You're right, thanks Beel."</p><p>He grunts, which is more attention than you were expecting with food still in front of him. You wiggle off Mammon's lap; a little motion that makes him <em>whine</em>. It would've been passably quiet if literally any of them had still been talking.</p><p>You grab both plates out of the way just in time for Mammon to slam his head on the dining room table.</p><p>"We'll take this to go," you say, taking advantage of his sudden dramatics. You can see Lucifer starting to narrow his eyes, and you thread a little magic into your next words. "Come on, Mammon."</p><p>He knocks his knee up against the bottom of the table as he stands and you wince apologetically. You don't stop, though, marching swiftly out of the room before Lucifer starts to make any actual movements. You can hear Belphie sighing, loudly, as you reach the threshold. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"Does it bother you <em>that</em> much?" </p><p>"What?" You look up from your table. There's something vaguely noodly dangling from your mouth that you slurp up with all the etiquette of an anteater. "Does what bother me?"</p><p>He's looking at you, all concerned like he thinks there's some reason to be worried. "When we all fight. Ya know it ain't serious, right?" He's pushing food around on his plate, the scratching of the fork understated background noise.</p><p>"I did get that vibe, yeah." You swallow. You should have thought to bring a drink, your throat is getting dry. (Or had Mammon bring some; your hands were full). "So you're saying it doesn't bother you at all, huh?"</p><p>"I mean. Yeah. NO! I mean. Like something like that would bother the Great Mammon!" He's floundering but . . . it sounds like he means it. This time.</p><p>"I must seem pretty pathetic then," you say lightly.</p><p>"That's not what I meant!" Backtracking, now. Oops, you didn't mean to make him feel guilty. "But you're human, right? Makes sense you'd be able to take less. And they're demons on top of it! Must be a lot. . ."</p><p>Huh. His train of thought is spiraling in an interesting direction. Frankly you don't know that it's particularly productive, so you stop him before he can come to any unfortunate conclusions. You don't need everyone walking on eggshells around you all the time. (Maybe it <em>is</em> time to scale back your methods, just a little bit. At the very least you could probably stand to be less aggressive).</p><p>"I'm okay, I promise! I just don't like the way they treat you sometimes." You wave your hand, trying to convey that this is very much a <em>non-issue</em>. "I get all mad about it, but I don't think I'd exactly win in a fight against one of your brothers, you know?"</p><p>Mammon mutters something that sounds a whole lot like 'Could'a fooled me.' Well. There <em>are</em> limits to your self-control. But he picks up his fork and spears something grilled. Takes a savage bite.</p><p>You watch him carefully. "Are you mad I made you leave?"</p><p>"I mean, I can't blame ya for wanting some alone time with me," he starts, slowly. By the end of the sentence, his tone has shifted all the way to pleased. </p><p>"You got it in one."</p><p>"Oh." He coughs, pounding at his chest so hard you can feel it, bass pounding in your bones. Demon strength really is something else. "I didn't think you'd just admit it like that."</p><p>"You weren't paying enough attention to me," you say, leaning in towards him. Some truly impressive changes are happening in his face. You didn't think it was possible to get that red without a sunburn.</p><p>He sputters, jerking back. "Needy, ain't 'cha."</p><p>You tilt your head at him. "Does it bother you?"</p><p>"Nah." He turns away. "As long as you aren't like this with anybody else."</p><p><em>Adorable</em>. You're kind of glad he won't look at you. This way you don't have to hide your smile.</p><hr/><p>"Don't come."</p><p>You pause, your hand already reaching for the handle of the main doors. Huh.</p><p>Mammon sputters. "What? Why not?"</p><p>You turn on your heel to watch. You haven't heard them really laying into him in a while. Even this seems more like teasing, or a casual sort of sibling aggravation, so you might be inclined to let it slide. Belphie doesn't even look particularly bothered. But.</p><p>You're only human, after all. And it's so hard to pass up such easy opportunity.</p><p>"I'm sorry, Mammon. I'm not going either. Now you can keep me company!" You open your arms and he folds into them, automatic. He doesn't even flush.  </p><p>There's a low <em>smack</em> somewhere in the background.</p><p>"Hey!" Belphie rubs his crown, glowering at Asmodeus.</p><p>"He didn't mean it. Come on, we're going to be late, and I am <em>not</em> missing my grand entrance!"</p><p>You squeeze Mammon, once, and grin. "Great!" Find him with one fumbling hand and thread your fingers together.</p><p>You don't let go for the entire trip.</p><hr/><p>This time you don't have to say anything at all. The second his brothers start in on him he flops backwards into a chair, all long limbed and graceless. Open, arms and legs slightly spread.</p><p>Well. That's convenient.</p><p>You casually weave around his brothers and sit against him, his chest so <em>warm</em> against your back, his arms buckling you in place. It doesn't interrupt their rhythm, anymore. Even Mammon is composed enough to fire back, directly over your head. </p><p>Granted, a lot of his response is mainly limited to some impressive cursing, but still. At least he's holding ground.</p><p>You pull out your D.D.D.. Recently Luke and Solomon have been trying to teach Simeon how to use Devilgram; a worthy endeavour. So far everything in his feed is just a series of progressively more cryptic looking selfies, and some almost abstract landscapes that are so blurry you can't divine the settings.</p><p>It's amazing.</p><p>You're trying to piece together his last location from the scraps of clues available: Luke and Solomon's exasperated comments and Simeon's caption (some bible verse about figs?) like a private investigator hired to catch a cheating husband, when you feel a pressure on your shoulder. You look up. The room is empty.</p><p>The sharp point of Mammon's chin is digging into your flesh. He's squinting through his lenses (sweetheart, the picture will be . . . no, never mind. Taking those glasses off isn't going to make anything clearer), frowning down at the photo on your screen. "Is that supposed to be a cat?"</p><p><em>Is it?</em> You turn back to your D.D.D.. Narrow your eyes. Tilt the image. Zoom in.</p><p>Is it?</p><p>"Yes," you say decisively, despite having no idea. You press your cheek against his crown. "When did your brothers leave?"</p><p>"Couple a minutes ago. Whose account is this?"</p><p>"Simeon's."</p><p>He snorts. "Why're ya looking at that? Are all his pictures this bad?"</p><p>Well. Yes. You scroll down a little bit so he can take a small sample.</p><p>"What's the point of looking at these? Ya can't tell what anything even is!"</p><p>"That's half the fun," you say. You continue at his bewildered look. "It's like a game. I'm trying to figure out what everything is supposed to be."</p><p>"What? How do ya know if you're winning?"</p><p>You shrug. It bumps your heads together uncomfortably. "I don't."</p><p>He snorts. "Well, that's dumb. Come on, I wanna snack." Stands, dislodging you, one arm still around your waist to keep you from falling. "I bought some new Hellfire instant noodles. They're wedding cake butter chili flavour and I've been dyin' ta try 'em."</p><p>"No," you say, recoiling with the horror of a still-fresh memory. The last new 'flavour' he tried had you sick in bed for hours.</p><p>His grin spreads. You don't stop walking.</p><hr/><p>"It's cute!"</p><p>"It's disgusting. Mammon is so happy he looks like he's going to die."</p><p>"He <em>is</em> more unbearable than usual."</p><p>You hadn't meant to eavesdrop. You were just looking to return this book to the library ('Hellfire circles and how to harness them', which had turned out to be an unbearably dry series of essays on demonic geometry), when you'd been stopped in the hall by a series of voices. <em>Annoyed</em> voices.</p><p>You all but press your ear to the door, listening.</p><p>"But he's been less . . . annoying in general. I don't think I've actually heard anyone (besides us) complain about him. In like, a month."</p><p>Really, now? Come to think of it, he has been spending an impressive amount of time locked in your vicinity. He'd stayed nearby before (he <em>was</em> your designated baby-sitter, after all) but now he's orbiting you so closely you might as well be joined at the hip. In fact, the only reason he isn't here right now is because he's in your room, waiting for you to return. </p><p>Your D.D.D. pings and you glance down.</p><p>A correction: he's waiting for you to return <em>with snacks</em>.</p><p>You're about to press in, and put the book away. You're still not sure if you're going to pretend that you weren't eavesdropping, when you get another message.</p><p>Impatient brat. He's threatening to go rifling through Levi's room until you return. (Although the fact that he knows Levi isn't there implies that he might have already started). You'd better run straight to the kitchen instead; you can't be distracted by his gossipy brothers.</p><p>You leave the book on the hall table and dart away. Satan will kill you for abandoning it out there, but that's a problem for the future.</p><hr/><p>"You're not our brother. You'd sell us all for a handful of grimm!"</p><p>Oh. <em>Fuck</em> that. And fuck Levi, especially, for good measure. (And <em>not</em> in the fun way). </p><p>Something is twisting in Mammon's face that looks too much like genuine hurt for you to conduct yourself appropriately. Even if Levi doesn't mean it (and he wouldn't, he <em>can't</em>, his eyes already wet with angry tears), that is the meanest thing you think he could have said. You stand, pointedly ignoring every other demon in the room. Turn so you can straddle the avatar of greed, face to face.</p><p>You put your palms on his cheeks, drag his gaze to yours. He's desperately trying to fight down every nuance of his expression, watery. You lean in very, very close. Just until you hear that sharp intake of breath.</p><p> </p><p>"Mammon. D̾ō̜̪̠̤͇̩̑͒͗ͬ̔n̓ͥ'̠t̀ͤ̅̓ ̻̜͕͕̩ͬli̫̠̲͖͂̓̿s͛t̩ͅe͕̞̺ͯ̽̈̅̆̎n͍̦̙̮̘̯͋̊̊ ͙̋͗̐ͥͩ͂ͭt̞̬ǒ̼ ͎̻̹͇̋̊ͭ̚ͅy̾ͯ̎̓o̿̐ͥṻ̬͍̝͚͍́̿̌ͮ̔ͩr ̯̟̥̥̙̯͈͗̏ͣ̈́̈́̚b̪ͨrͮ͒́̀o͓͓̊̍̅̈́t̅̄͛̇͋h͉̩̾͋̍ͬͧ̅ͤe͒͂͗͛ͫ̚r̟̎ͯ̚s̯̜̙͒̚."</p><p> </p><p>His eyes go wide. You watch the blue-yellow flash of his irises as he flickers between your face and his brothers behind you. Belphie is making some predictably annoyed sounds; increasingly ramping abuse he's forced to hurl at your back. Levi is crying in earnest now. You sweep your thumbs carefully across the high planes of Mammon's cheeks.</p><p>"Just focus on me, okay?" </p><p><br/>He doesn't nod, but he's trying his best. His eyes are wavering, cheeks spreading, flushing red and redder as you continue to hold him gently in place. Tenderness is blooming in your chest. Spreading up through your arms, your hands. Pressing into his skin.</p><p>"Good boy," you coo. He nearly collapses into your embrace. Mumbles something that sounds like, "Guess I can't blame ya for wanting all a' the Great Mammon's attention."</p><p>"How understanding." A quiet laugh. You reach up and brush his bangs off his face. Move forwards and kiss his forehead. "You really are great."</p><p>He starts, just enough that his hands fly to your back to keep you in place. "Nice of ya to finally notice." But his face is <em>burning</em>.</p><p>Alright. You hate to ruin the moment, but this seems important to know. "Did you do it?"</p><p>"I-Wha?" His eyes go shifty. "Which thing?"</p><p>Oh. They <em>were</em> accusing him of a full laundry list of things, weren't they? You single in on the one thing that you think he maybe actually might have done. "Did you sell Levi's limited edition figure?"</p><p>"N-no. And I didn't hide it in the top drawer of my dresser underneath a bunch'a clean socks, either!" He's fully avoiding your gaze now. You sigh, but there's a desperate running sound and you're sure Levi's already taken the hint. The door slams on his way out.</p><p>You draw back. There's a cacophony of overlapping voices now, feeling some measure of vindication you're sure, but you're tuning them out. Your voice is so quiet the only reason Mammon can hear it is  because he's magically deaf to his brothers. "I didn't think you'd lie to me."</p><p>"I didn't! I wasn't!" He jolts up, panicked into meeting your gaze. "I didn't sell it!"</p><p>"Were you going to?"</p><p>"Uh." He squirms, clearly trying to find the words that will absolve him.</p><p>The silence speaks volumes.</p><p>"<em>Mammon</em>."</p><p>"Fine! Yes! Okay? I didn't know it was a Ruri-chan thing, so I thought he probably wouldn't even notice if it disappeared. I didn't know it was a big deal!"</p><p>"We both know you shouldn't have taken it anyway."</p><p>He's fidgeting so much now you can't stay on without putting your hands back on him. You stand, still straddling him above the chair. His arm flexes, but he doesn't make any move to touch you.</p><p>"Look, I needed the grimm, okay? I'm real far in the red right now, and there's . . . stuff."</p><p>"There's always stuff, Mammon."</p><p>"No, it's." He reaches up to scratch his hair. "I've got. There's witch stuff."</p><p>"Oh." You pause, quiet. Will he take you to meet them if you ask him to? (You could <em>force</em> it but. You really don't like to make him do things that he genuinely doesn't want to). You have no issues fighting a witch — you've had a lot of fights against people with one letter's difference.</p><p>And Solomon, once, when he tried to get you to try one of his new cookie recipes.</p><p>"Is everything okay?"</p><p>He shrugs. "Just the usual junk, nothin' I can't handle."</p><p>You settle back down, drape your arms around his neck. He reaches tentatively for your waist, and when you don't flinch at the contact he draws you close. "Is there anything I can do?"</p><p>"You?" He looks surprised. Then he snorts. "Nah, not unless ya got fifty thousand grimm on ya."</p><p>"<em>Fifty thousand?</em>" Your fingers freeze where they'd been rubbing gentle circles against his skin. "That's extortion!"</p><p>"And don't I know it," he mumbles. He sounds . . . <em>tired</em>.</p><p>You hum, shift until you're comfortable; small movements that make him still underneath you. The grip on your waist is growing slightly sharp.</p><p>"— can't just let him off the hook because he's irresponsible."</p><p>"— shouldn't have gotten into it in the first—"</p><p>His brothers are still talking, although at this point it sounds like the numbers have dwindled. You can't hear Asmo or Beel. You suspect the avatar of Lust couldn't stand being ignored and flounced off. Beel might or might not still be present; he's too often quiet for you to be certain.</p><p>You lean down and brush the hair off Mammon's forehead. Press a kiss right there, at the furrow between his brow. Funny. For a second you're reminded of Lucifer. He even gets that little crinkle in the same place.</p><p>Mammon jumps and you barely avoid getting hit in the nose. "Wha— Don't just <em>do</em> that, all a' sudden!" </p><p>"Sorry." You back up, not enough to let cool air into the space between you. "I won't do it again."</p><p>"Hey, hey, hey, I didn't say <em>that!</em>" He huffs, blush spreading. "Jus' gimme some warning next time!"</p><p>"Okay." You grin at him. "I'm going to kiss you."</p><p>"Yeah, exactly like—" He sputters as you place your hands on his jaw and his nape, turn his head to present the high angles of his cheekbones and litter kisses against the skin. You can <em>feel</em> him warming up beneath your touch, submitting to all your wanton affection.</p><p>"Oi, wait! Hang on!" He's saying that, but he's pulling you further against him, your hips flush against his torso. "That's no fair, I wanna do it too."</p><p>"Do what?" you ask, innocent.</p><p>This time when the red creeps across his face, he doesn't turn away. "K-Kiss you."</p><p>"Oh <em>gag</em> me."</p><p>Huh, Belphie's still here. Although not for long, if that comment is any indication. You laugh and Mammon recoils, devastated. Oh that's right, he can't hear anybody else.</p><p>"No! I mean, not no, I didn't mean it like that. I wasn't laughing at you, I promise!" You're babbling as you cling to him, trying to keep Mammon from bucking you off as his flight instincts take hold. He calms in fits, so embarrassed his head is turned to the wall.</p><p>"I-I've got stuff to do, I can't hang around here all day while you're goofin' off. The . . .," and here he waves one hand, while he tries to fabricate some excuse. "The witches are gonna get impatient."</p><p>"Okay, I won't keep you." But you don't get off. Instead you cage him in, your hands gripping the back of the chair. Bring your face down to his. "Just one kiss, then."</p><p>"I. Fine," he says, still pink. "But ya gotta make it quick, ok?"</p><p>"Okay."</p><p>And then you lean in towards his nose. Dip at the last second and brush gentle against his lips.</p><p>"You—!"</p><p>You grin at him, already swinging one leg off. "A quickie, as promised!"</p><p>He grabs at your thigh, interrupting your momentum and making you stagger. You're only saved from falling on the floor by the way his arm shoots out to snag your waist, too quick to follow. "That's. That's obviously not enough!"</p><p>You tilt your head at him, trying for dignified despite the way you're grasping at his shoulder for balance. "What do you mean? Isn't that what you wanted?"</p><p>"I. You. No, I thought you meant—What <em>was</em> that?" He yanks you back into his lap. "Do it again."</p><p>"I thought you were busy?"</p><p>"I am!" It's a complete reversal; he won't <em>stop</em> looking at you. Eyes large and heartbreakingly hopeful. "But I'm sparing some a' my time for you, so ya better not waste it!"</p><p>"So generous," you murmur. And then you lean down and kiss him again.</p><p>This time he doesn't let you pull away. He chases that fleeting touch; hungry and warm. The hand that was on your thigh moves to cradle the back of your head, draws you in against him. Well, far be it for you to run away from something you want.</p><p>You throw your arms around him and lose yourself in the kiss. He smells like leather, tastes like metal, feels like sunshine. His lips slot against you, clumsy, a little too much teeth for your delicate human lips.</p><p>He accidentally nicks you with a sharp canine, licks the wound and doesn't stop. </p><p>You gasp at the sudden sensation and then his tongue is in your mouth.</p><p>When he finally pulls away you're both gasping for breath. That familiar grin spreads, slow and cocky. "I knew I was your favourite."</p><p>You roll your eyes. "And I thought I was being <em>so</em> subtle about it."</p><p>He gapes. "Well you could stand to say it!"</p><p>He's pouting. You rub your fingers through his white fluff of hair, mussing his locks beyond even his usual tousled disarray. "Hey!"</p><p>"Mammon, you're my favourite."</p><p>You're crushed against his chest as he tightens his hold on you, beaming. "Haha, I knew it! Hey, next time you should say it in front of my brothers. They keep givin' me shit about ya."</p><p>Ah, that's right. His brothers. Who were just here, yelling at him. (You can't decide when <em>exactly</em> they must have disappeared. Hopefully before you and Mammon started eating each other's faces). You purse your lips, try to cover up the slip in your expression by dropping a kiss at the end of his nose. He tilts upwards and steals another kiss. And then another. And then it's starting to look like you've devolved back into making out when you finally gather your resolve and push away.</p><p>He whines, only relenting when you slouch against him, nuzzling into his neck. "You should apologize to Levi."</p><p>You can hear the frown in his voice. "Why ya bringin' <em>him</em> up for?"</p><p>"You really upset him, you know?"</p><p>"I didn't sell his stupid toy!" But he sounds more petulant than belligerent. You trace the curve of his cheek with one hand and he mumbles something incoherent and flops against your hair. "Fine. I'll say I'm sorry tomorrow."</p><p>You smile. Turn your head just enough so you can blow a messy raspberry against his pulse. He shoots sideways and you both go toppling messy to the floor. Worth it.</p><p>He's about to yell at you, so you grab him rough between your hands and pull him in for another kiss. He unwinds, too happy to be suspicious.</p><p>"Good boy."</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>You glance down at your D,D,D,. A video, from Levi. The strange blur in the middle of the screen resolves into Mammon, sauntering down the hallway, Lucifer coming from the opposite direction. He calls Mammon's name as he passes, but the avatar of Greed doesn't slow down. Then a sudden, violent motion and that proud leather collar is yanked with surprising force, Mammon falling to the floor at his brother's feet.</p><p>"Ah, ah! Wait, I wasn't ignoring ya, I swear! It ain't my faul—"</p><p>You watch as Mammon is dragged off-screen, to a background of high-pitched shrieking.</p><p>Oh, that's right. You never lifted your command. </p><hr/><p>"Maybe we could sell him to settle his debts."</p><p>"Sure, but who would <em>want</em> to buy him? We'd need a million of him just to come close to the amount you're talking about."</p><p>"Oi! The Great Mammon is worth four times as much as that!"</p><p>"Are you saying we'd only need a quarter of a million to clear out this bill?"</p><p>"Wha-? NO! I'm worth four times this WHOLE BILL! The whole thing!"</p><p>Damn, they're being loud for . . . eight in the morning. Eight? Why aren't you ever allowed to sleep in? If the living room had a door you would slam it.</p><p> Four pairs of eyes swivel in your direction. You shake your head, hands held up in front of you. "Nobody talk to me, it's too early. I'm going to get a coffee and maybe food, if Beel hasn't eaten everything in the kitchen."</p><p>"Wait! Come on, help me out here!" Mammon is shouting something, the back of his collar held in Satan's hand.</p><p>You narrow your eyes. You know full well he could escape any time he wanted. "Well, what did you do?"</p><p>"What? I didn't do anything!" But he's all shifty-eyed. You frown at him, unimpressed. Press your lips together in a thin line, and he winces. "I. May have run up a little debt at the casino?"</p><p>"Oh." You walk up to him. Pat his cheek fondly. "That's rough."</p><p>"It's so bad that they won't even let me back in until he pays it! <em>Me!</em>" Asmodeus says, gesturing dramatically.</p><p>Satan sighs. "Apparently this idiot broke a six hundred year old bottle of Demonus on a brand new Piano."</p><p>" . . .<em>Why?</em>"</p><p>"I thought it was the cheap stuff!"</p><p>That . . . was not really the point of your question. You turn to Satan, and he shakes his head. "Despite living in a house with one, Mammon has no concept of how pianos work."</p><p>"What? I was christening it! Like a ship, y'know? It was a celebration!"</p><p>"A piano isn't a ship, dumbass!"</p><p>"If your worthless butt doesn't find a way to fix this, I am going to have you blacklisted from every store in the downtown Devildom!"</p><p>Satan, at the very least, only sounds dryly amused. "This is going to give Lucifer a stroke. And whether or not he recovers from it, he's going to kill you."</p><p>They'll take any opening to start airing their grievances. You listen with interest as they start revisiting what is clearly a well-read and constantly revisited laundry list of offences. Wait, did he <em>actually</em> do that? With an elephant <em>and</em> a deep sea squid? What. What was the plan there?</p><p>When they finally stop for breath, Levi notices that Mammon has dropped backwards into the nearest armchair. He freezes, eyes darting obviously between you and his brother. Jumps when you shift on your feet.</p><p>"Levi, are you okay?"</p><p>"Aren't ya gonna . . .Y'know." Levi attempts some form of charade with his arms that you don't understand.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>The quiet has extended past natural, and you realize every demon's eyes are on you. "What."</p><p>"Well, you usually get upset when we yell at Mammon," Satan starts, considering you.</p><p>"Oh? I do?" You ask, feigning ignorance (very badly). Mammon is already leaning back, arms open.</p><p>"Yes." Asmo, sounding grossly annoyed.</p><p>"Huh. How weird."</p><p>There are some obvious gazes, darting between you (still standing) and Mammon, who looks particularly expectant.</p><p>"So . . ."</p><p>"Oh. Mammon, I promised Lucifer I would make sure you did your homework today. So come to the library when they're done scolding you, okay?"</p><p>A beat. Asmo perks up hopefully.</p><p>"You're more than welcome to stay."</p><p>"Oh, it's okay." You yawn widely, stretching. "I need to eat something or I'm going to die. Let me know what his punishment is, later."</p><p>"Sure," Satan says. He still has that <em>look</em> in his eyes. Assessing. "Will you abide by our decision?"</p><p>"I guess, as long as it's not super inconvenient."</p><p>"Alright." You don't trust that smile. "We'll come up with something appropriate."</p><p>You nod, waving vaguely as you wander out. Maybe if you're lucky, Beel didn't finish that jar of Devilberry jam that someone forgot in the fridge last week.</p><p>Even from the kitchen you can hear them laying into him.</p><p>Well, he had it coming. You rummage in the cupboards. Empty, empty, empty. Empty. No, wait! There, in the back of the weird corner cupboard, there's a dented box. You drag it out, note the plastic bag sticking crumpled from the top. Oh Mighty <em>Lord Diavolo</em>, is there actually <em>food</em> in there?</p><p>It's gone suspiciously silent. You might have noticed if your head hadn't been buried in the cupboard. Have they already handed down their judgement? You pull a bowl towards you, listening.</p><p>A beat. And then Mammon's voice, so loud you jolt, drop the scant remainder of the cereal all over the floor.</p><p>
  <em>"Whaddaya mean we can't kiss anymore?!"</em>
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